


a dream of you and me

by littleseapig, pendragonpants



Series: Who Needs Who? [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Draco Malfoy Needs a Hug, Emotional Hurt, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Happy Ending, Fluff, Harry Potter Needs a Hug, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mutual Pining, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Burn, Soul Bond, The Authors Want You To Cry, Violence, Whump
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-14
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:35:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28067880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littleseapig/pseuds/littleseapig, https://archiveofourown.org/users/pendragonpants/pseuds/pendragonpants
Summary: A duel between Harry and Draco leaves Draco incapacitated and, ironically, the only person who can undo the curse is Harry. Unfortunately, he doesn’t know the countercurse which leaves Draco at his mercy. Cue Draco and Harry trying to be civil in order to prevent Draco’s death.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Past Harry Potter/ Ginny Weasley
Series: Who Needs Who? [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2083497
Comments: 2
Kudos: 29





	1. You’ve Seen Me At My Worst

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! This is our first Drarry fic and we hope you enjoy it. You've read the tags- get ready to cry. There will be a happy ending, eventually.

It had been 122 days since the war ended. Harry had counted every single day since Voldemort died. Things in Hogwarts had changed. McGonagall was the Headmaster now and she had decided to let those affected by the war retake their classes. Seventh Year was now the Eighth Year. 

Not everyone returned for the Eighth Year, however, and Harry only recognized a few of his batchmates. He had agreed to return because he felt that it was the only place he had ever truly belonged, and staying at Grimmauld Place had only forced painful memories of Sirius to resurface in his mind. 

He didn’t know what to do now that the fate of the wizarding world wasn’t hanging on a quest Dumbledore had sent him on, and he figured that drowning himself in school life would at least help distract himself from his traumatic memories of the War and his inner demons, even if it was a temporary escape. Everyone he was close to had chosen to move on, and it seemed like he was the only one stuck in the past reliving the war. His ‘victory’ was nothing more than a nuisance to him, leaving him with no clue of the purpose of his life after he had already defeated a villain that had plagued his mind since he was eleven.

Harry manoeuvred his way around the train carriages of the Hogwarts Express, trying to find an empty carriage so he could wallow in his thoughts by himself. Just as he was about to enter one, he spotted a familiar blonde. Draco Malfoy. 

He had changed, both physically and in terms of behaviour. His skin was paler than usual, hair so blond it was almost white and he had grown much taller. He was less lanky and more buff, clothes fitting him perfectly. The elegance and pride he once carried himself with were nowhere to be seen. For a brief moment, Harry let himself wonder if Malfoy no longer saw himself on a level above everyone, but could not imagine his former arch-nemesis possessing even a shred of humility. Harry knew his calm demeanour was all a facade, he was probably broken inside, just like himself.

He had placed his arm on the sliding door and Harry could see the marred skin where the Dark Mark used to be. Everyone knew of his mental breakdown after the War. He had witnessed the death of his parents, murdered by Voldemort as they tried to save Draco. A traitor, they had called him, and the Death Eaters had orders to kill Draco on sight. His parents had pleaded for Voldemort to spare him but in return, they had been killed. Harry had been one of the people who had to restrain Malfoy from running back towards the forest where his parents’ corpses laid. The Malfoy heir was reduced to nothing but a sobbing mess and he had to be dragged away to St. Mungo’s after he nearly bled to death from his self-inflicted wound. At least the mark was gone now. All that was left was a mottled scar on his once spotless skin.

Malfoy could tell that Harry was staring at his arm and brought it down quickly and almost defensively, slinking into the carriage without a word with an obsidian coloured cat at his feet. He hadn’t realized that Malfoy had acquired a new pet. Harry had never seen a cat that’s looked so poised and elegant before. It was a very tiny cat as well, and much like Malfoy. Small but carrying a lot of grace. Harry gawked at Malfoy through the glass of the carriage’s sliding door in surprise. He had been waiting for Malfoy’s snide retort since he had spotted that pale, pointed face and felt a pang of disappointment when Malfoy had left without one. The sense of normalcy Harry yearned for felt even further out of his reach. Malfoy had never once walked away without having the last word, most often an insult aimed at Harry. The shutter of the blinds down the carriage window that Harry was mindlessly peering through snapped him out of his thoughts. Malfoy must have caught him staring again. Looks like Harry had to find another carriage for himself.

Unfortunately for him, there were none left, but he supposed the next best thing was a carriage with just Ron and Hermione. It had been ages since he had spoken to anyone other than Kreacher. After the war, he had drifted from everyone he was close with because they just couldn’t understand why he didn’t want to move on. 

Everyone had attempted to communicate with him via letters but he had ignored every single one of them, stashing heaps of mail into one of the numerous drawers in the house. Harry distantly wonders if he should have felt more guilt after having shut his closest friends out for months. He was too lost in his thoughts to think about their feelings of the whole situation and it was when he saw Ron and Hermione’s shocked expressions through the window of a carriage he was walking by that he realized he had missed them.

“Harry? Is that you? It’s been so long!” Hermione squealed, jumping up to throw her arms around him. Ron was more collected and stuck his hand out for a more formal approach. 

“Hi.” His response was short and awkward and no one really knew what to say afterwards. They ended up sitting down and as Ron and Hermione chattered away about what they’d been up to since they last saw him, Harry could only gaze outside the window, watching the blurs of green and blue as they sped past the fields.

Even though his best friends were seated right across from him, Harry felt more alone than he ever had. He’d expected the feeling of emptiness in his chest that he had grown accustomed to in the last few months to at least fade slightly in the presence of Ron and Hermione. Distantly, Harry’s thoughts wandered to Malfoy who was currently alone in that carriage as well. It was horrid, he mused, what war did to some people.

Before long, Harry dozed off, the tinny chatter of Hermione and the steady hum of the engine lulling him to sleep.

*

Harry was awoken by Hermione shaking his shoulder, letting him know that they had reached their destination. He forced his eyes open and stood up groggily, bumping into the door on his way out. He saw Malfoy in the corner of his eye once again but his former nemesis did the exact thing he had done earlier today; stare at Harry then walk away. It was slightly infuriating to Harry, how Malfoy treated him with such indifference when taunting Harry used to be the boy’s biggest obsession. One could argue that Malfoy himself was also Harry’s biggest obsession in the last few years, but Harry certainly wasn’t going to ever admit that.

As he stood still among the bustling crowd, he watched as couples lovingly held each other’s hands, pecked each other on the forehead whilst giggling and sharing jokes. How painfully beautiful. 

Harry stumbled along with the rest of the students to Hogwarts, the once flawless castle structure crumbling in certain places, still in the process of getting repaired. It did, however, look much better than it did the last time Harry had seen it. The castle’s familiar smells brought back a myriad of memories and Harry took a deep breath to steady himself before following the crowd into the school’s entrance.

The Great Hall was almost prettier this time, floating candles now replaced with exuberant chandeliers and cutlery embedded with small jewels. It seemed as though it was a brilliant fresh start for Hogwarts. Harry knew better than to hope that returning would allow him a fresh start as well. 

Harry mindlessly poked his fork at his plate of mashed potatoes, idly watching Ron and Hermione feed each other. They hadn’t stopped talking to one another the whole time since Harry had joined them on the train. It was almost like Harry was completely invisible to them aside from the greetings they had offered him on the train. What about their once unbreakable bond as the legendary Golden Trio? It was more like Ron and Hermione plus Harry, he thought bitterly. 

Just then, Malfoy walked past the trio on the way to his table and Hermione’s cheery smile contorted into an ugly sneer. “Death Eaters shouldn’t be allowed back into Hogwarts, especially not _that_ one.”

Ron snickered and everyone at the Gryffindor table went on with their conversations, some still whispering about Malfoy and his public breakdown after the War. For some reason, Harry felt a sudden and immense need to stand up for the blonde. This wasn’t like Hermione at all to be this cruel, even to Malfoy. But then again, Harry reminded himself, people change.

“I don’t think you should say that, Mione. Especially when you know what happened to him.”

Hermione tossed her hair over her shoulder indignantly. “Harry, I don’t understand why you’re so upset when Malfoy was the cause of this. He’s to be blamed! He doesn’t deserve any of your pity.”

That was Harry’s breaking point. The outright scornfulness in Hermione’s tone didn’t sit right with Harry. The trio had never had anything close to a friendship with Draco Malfoy before, but even Harry had never expressed this much hate for him unreasonably. Harry forced a smile and hastily stood up, storming off to the bathroom and replying with “Excuse me for just a moment” when his friends asked where he was going. He wasn’t in the mood to speak to anyone until he figured out why sudden anger was boiling inside him.

Harry paused to lean on a wall outside the Great Hall, catching his breath and trying to regain some of his calm. He’d go to the bathroom in a minute, just in case anyone had decided to follow him out.

*

As he sat alone at the half-empty Slytherin table, Draco let his eyes wander around the Great Hall. He recognized many of his batchmates but few of his friends had returned. The others who sat at the Slytherin table were limited to Pansy, Blaise, Theo and a few others whose names he couldn’t remember. He started thinking about who he had bumped into on the train. He had been surprised to see Potter while looking for an empty carriage. He hadn’t had the energy to muster up a usual crude comment and had figured that if he kept his mouth shut, he could keep a low profile for now. The last thing he wanted was to get noticed and hence bothered by too many people. Alas, it had only been a few minutes sitting in the Great Hall and Draco could already feel the many piercing glares that felt like blades in his back.

His gaze drifted over to the Gryffindor table where Potter looked like he was on the verge of exploding and lashing out at someone. Draco could tell, he had been in that same situation many times as well. Granger must have said something to him when Draco walked by a few minutes ago and the others had the table seemed to erupt in laughter and agreement. Strangely, Potter had been glowering at her since. She’d probably insulted his perfection or whatever.

Draco’s thoughts were interrupted when he suddenly felt a stinging burn on his chest. He looked up to see that a younger Gryffindor kid he didn’t recognize had spilt his cup of warm tea on his shirt. The kid had clearly done it on purpose to spite him but Draco couldn’t do anything but tiredly glare back.

The kid choked out a quick ‘sorry’ before looking back at his table and laughing. He evidently thought he was some hotshot and would be ‘cool’ in the other Gryffindors’ eyes if he targeted an ex-Death Eater. Draco gave him a pained smile in annoyance before striding out of the hall to clean himself up in the bathroom. It would do no good to his already wrecked image if he fought back and he didn’t want to give the Gryffindors the satisfaction of seeing him crack. His father had always taught him that Malfoys would never sink down to the level of those unworthy of their attention. As Draco walked to the bathroom, he didn’t notice Harry stood against the wall outside the Great Hall and the other boy didn’t notice him either.

Draco stood at the sink, scrubbing his face and watching as the cool drops of water trickled down his face, tapering as it ran down his neck. The man he saw in the mirror had a calm, proud demeanour but deep inside, Draco could see the torn brokenness of his soul. The only physical signs that ruined the whole facade were his dark purple eye-bags and sunken eyes.

The sound of a door slamming open caused him to jump and he looked in the mirror to see who had come in. Just his luck, it was none other than Potter. The situation felt like an obvious set-up and shivers ran down Draco’s spine as he recalled what happened the last time he and Potter had run into each other in the bathroom. The scars from that encounter throbbed in phantom pains as he straightened and turned to face the other boy.

“What brings you here, Potter? Stalking me again?”

His snark had seemed to return at the sight of Potter’s stare and he was going to take advantage of that. He wasn’t about to be belittled by perfect saviour Potter.

When Potter ignored the comment and turned to walk into the stalls, Draco felt the sudden need to strike again. Did Potter think of himself too high and mighty to grace Draco with an acknowledgement? “Come to catch a break, Potter? All that glory and praise too much for you? Don’t think you’re worthy of that either, do you?”

Harry turned around sharply at Draco’s smug tone. Ah, he really still hasn’t changed that much then, Draco thought. “What do you think you know about me, Malfoy? Stop acting like you are the godforsaken Merlin! Why don’t you just go back into whatever hole you slithered out of?” 

Harry was already at his breaking point of the night and the fact that Malfoy was here taunting him, at his mercy, was almost comforting in a horrific way. He could let himself take his anger out on Malfoy, it would be so easy. Harry stopped repressing his emotions and let the anger take over him.

“You’re the reason why my parents are dead! Don’t tell me I’m the one acting like a hot-headed brat!”

Before he could reach for his wand to throw a hex, Potter drew his, yelling a spell that Draco hadn’t heard of before. It hit Draco square in the chest, causing him to be flung violently back into the wall.

“ _Afflictionem etiam interiorem sentiant_!” 

For a moment, Draco feared that he was going to bleed out on the ground again. This spell sounded far worse than Sectumsempra to him but surprisingly, nothing happened after he laid there waiting for a moment. In fact, he didn’t feel anything at all.

He got to his feet, smirking at Potter who was frozen and looking at him with a horrified expression. He was probably mad that his puny little spell didn’t work at all.

“Goodbye, Potter,” Draco mockingly whispered before walking out, deciding to head straight to the Slytherin common room. He needed a good rest if he was going to have to deal with all these pesky Gryffindors for the rest of his school year.

*

Harry’s sheets were soaked with sweat, his blanket tangled up around his legs due to his incessant struggling. He was suffering from his nightmares again. Ephialtes that plagued his mind every night, terrorising him and depriving him of respite.

Again and again, Harry was forced to relive seeing his friends brutally slain by Death Eaters and Voldemort. The haunting scene of his godfather falling through the veil and Bellatrix’s cackles rang in his ears.

Harry sat up with a jolt, panting heavily as he blinked away the images of Sirius’ stunned expression right before he fell through the veil to his death. Lost, never to be seen again. He’d been afflicted with similar nightmares since the day they’d lost Sirius, but they seemed to be worsening as of late. He couldn’t think of the last time he’d woken up after a peaceful and full night of sleep since the War had ended. 

He was fortunate to have his own room. McGonagall had allowed him to have his own common room and bedroom which was nice. At least carrying the burden of being the perfect saviour came with some perks, Harry supposed. Maybe having special privileges wasn’t so bad. He had time to reflect each morning and he knew that if he slept with everyone else in the Gryffindor dorms, he would wake his roommates up with his sleep talking and pained cries. 

As Harry wiped away his sweat and tried to calm himself down, his thoughts subconsciously drifted to Draco Malfoy and his eyes that were a mixture of stormy lightning and calm cloudiness. Pretty pink lips enunciating melodious word after word. Beautiful. 

His heart rate slowed down and he eased himself back under the covers, eyelids growing heavier and heavier until sleep dragged him under. 

*

Unbeknownst to Harry, Draco was suffering from the same afflictions as him. The other boy couldn’t erase the image of his parents’ sad expressions and Voldemort’s icy glare from his mind.

_“Please, spare our son, My Lord. He’s just a boy! He couldn’t have killed that professor even if he tried. He is loyal to you and you only.”_

_Draco knew that he was in deep trouble after he had failed to carry out the Dark Lord’s orders. He didn’t want to do it and therefore, didn’t try to kill Flitwick. He hadn’t realised he would be found out so soon and that he’d be kneeling with his hands bound in the Forbidden Forest at the Dark Lord’s mercy._

_“My Lord, Draco has been nothing but faithful to you,” Lucius pleaded. This was one of the only times his father stood up for him. It would be the last._

_Voldemort breathed out heavily. His patience had been dwindling the entire night. His only source of happiness was that he had killed Harry Potter. He was dead. Finally dead! But the Malfoys were a liability now. He had to get rid of them._

_“Spare your son? Why would I do such a thing? This mangy little rat couldn’t even kill Dumbledore when he was asking for it,” He simpered, holding Draco’s chin up to face him, relishing in how the panic in the boy’s eyes increased and how weak his pathetic whimpers were._

_“Please, we’ll do anything,” Narcissa begged._

_This was Voldemort’s opportunity to be rid of them. The useless boy would be dead soon anyway, leaving him in the forest as prey was easier than wasting his time. He had a victory to gloat about._

_“Avada kedavra.”_

_Two simple words said twice. Four words that destroyed Draco’s entire life. He stared at his parent’s lifeless corpses, mind not fully processing it yet. The way Voldemort had said it was so agonising. Just a casual flick of the wand and muttering of words._

_“I’ve spared your son, just as you wanted, Malfoys. Be grateful, Draco.”_

_As Voldemort and the rest of the Death Eaters sauntered away carrying the corpse of the boy who lived, the broken boy did his best to scramble to his mother, tripping over his own feet and falling on his face multiple times._

_He gazed into her eyes, begging for her to wake up. Her aegean blue eyes stared right through him, cold and unmoving._

_“Mother? Come back to me, please. Please. You can’t leave me here.”_

_He looked over at his father’s corpse and realised he was all alone in the world. His heart was treated like a china teacup that fell to the ground. Shattered, irreparable._

_A wrenched wail escaped him, sobs wracking through his entire body. He would be left crying for hours until the search party found him. They had to drag him away from his parents, screaming as he thought they were there to kill him._

_That’s where the humiliation came in. He was brought to Hogwarts and everyone watched him. He had fought the healers as best he could but his sanity had been destroyed. He collapsed to his knees on the cobblestone floor, mumbling incoherently. He was barely aware of people staring at him, let alone aware that Harry Potter was one of those people restraining from running back into the forest to find his parents. He had cursed the arm that was tainted with the Dark Mark, leading the healers to believe that he was a threat to both himself and others._

_They had to sedate him to prevent him from making more rash and harmful decisions. When Draco awoke in St. Mungo’s, all he could do was try his best not to cry. They had secured his arms to the bed guards, fearful that he would lose control._

_That’s where he stayed for the next few months. Taking medication every few hours helped to keep him in a calmer state because his mind was foggy and clouded by the drugs. He was barely aware of his surroundings, let alone the passersby that gawked at him or gave him pitiful glances. He had sat silently each time someone came to change his bandages, refusing to let himself feel regret for choosing to mutilate his forearm after the War had ended. Anything, even the ugly marred skin on his arm, was better than bearing the Dark Mark - a symbol of his loyalty to the same man who had killed his parents with no remorse._

_After a while, Draco learnt to repress his feelings and mindlessly obey the healers’ every instruction just so they would leave him alone. Prejudice was present in the hospital as well, and Draco was poorly treated by the staff. He was too drugged up to realise it but the other patients in the psych ward received much more care and concern. All Draco got was medications and potions shoved down his throat with no trace of respect or sympathy. That was simply the reality that known followers of the Dark Lord had to accept._

_Finally, the hospital decided that Draco was in a better state after months of his compliance. A state that was good enough for him to be discharged into a controlled environment but a state that wasn’t good enough to be fully discharged into society._

_Hogwarts, they had offered. He did not want to stay here any longer, the white walls and fluorescent lights were blinding and he had forgotten what the outside world looked like. After all, he had spent most of his days locked in his room._

_I’ll go to Hogwarts, he said. They gave him his potions and medication, instructing when to take it. He nodded numbly, clutching his things._

_He had some time to go back to the Manor and he took advantage of it. He worked out to fix his appearance, attempting to put on some muscle so that he didn’t look like a ghost. His efforts were successful. Despite his pallid skin and almost white hair, he looked fit. That was one thing he was finally proud of._

He was awoken from his dream by his cat rubbing itself against his face. Reliving those memories was painful and he was glad that he was free from the prison his dreams kept him in.

“Hello, Onyx.” Draco stroked the fluffy ball of fur fondly. 

“I guess you aren’t a cheeky monster all the time.”

He gazed wistfully at the window, watching the raindrops trailing down the glass. As his cat settled down in his lap, he thought to himself, at least I have one friend with me to make it through this school year.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Afflictionem etiam interiorem sentiant_ \- suffering internal torment in Latin (we aren't sure about the accuracy though!)
> 
> Chapter updates may be sporadic but do stay tuned. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	2. Soul Bond?

Draco swayed on his feet as he walked down the hallways of Hogwarts, trying to steady himself on the way to class. His head was pounding and it felt like a needle was being shoved into the middle of his head. He didn’t want to miss any classes, especially since it was literally his first week back in school. You have to attend your classes, score well and graduate, he told himself, or else you’ll be sent back to St Mungo’s. Besides, he didn’t want to draw any more unnecessary attention to himself by skipping lessons. 

He entered the dark and dreary dungeon, multiple stenches hitting him in the face at once. It was cold, temperature cold, and it was unlike the coldness that used to emanate from this room when the Death Eaters had taken over Hogwarts the last year. The mood was cheery now, which was the result of Slughorn’s bright personality.

Jars full of pickled slimy creatures, unknown fluids, dried herbs and tentacles. Dirty cauldrons lining old oak tables that were stained and worn down from aeons of use. Ah, Potions class. The dishevelled state of the room was normal to the students by now. Memories flooded Draco’s head and heart as he remembered his old Potions Professor, Severus Snape. He missed him now that he was gone, just like everyone else he had lost. He shook his head, trying to rid himself of these intruding thoughts. He had to focus on class, not get distracted by his feelings.

He sat down in the back of the room, with potted plants hanging over his desk whose vines cast gnarled shadows over his desk. At least no one would notice him here.

Slughorn stood at the front of the class, beaming as he looked upon each student’s face. A bubbly smile adorned his plump face but when his eyes fell upon Draco, it faltered and was replaced by a look of sympathy. Draco despised receiving pitiful looks from others and his face darkened until Slughorn finally cleared his throat and spoke.

“Good morning class. It is fantastic to have you all back! How is everyone?”

No one responded to the potions professor, partly because his query seemed like a rhetorical question and partly because there was still that remnant of a fierce rivalry between the Slytherins and Gryffindors. Slughorn wasn’t about to stand around waiting fruitlessly, so he jumped straight into taking attendance for the class. No point hanging around and waiting for a response that would never come.

Draco was lost in his thoughts and paid no attention to the names being called out, nor did he notice the numerous glares he received as the list fell upon his name. Draco was used to the dirty looks sent at him by now but they still stung. He couldn’t believe that he used to be popular and adored by his housemates, it all seemed like a faraway myth now.

Draco was pleased to see that he would be working alone for today as the seat next to him was empty. He would have to do twice the amount of work compared to everyone else but it was more than worth it to not have to deal with a pesky partner. Potions were his expertise anyway.

The class had been prepping their potion ingredients for twenty minutes when someone barged in through the back door, panting heavily. It was none other than Potter himself, looking dishevelled and unprepared.

“Sorry I’m late Professor, I overslept,” he wheezed, clearly worn out after running to class from his _‘private room’_. Stupid Potter and his dumb privileges.

“Ah, hello my dear boy! Do take a seat.”

Harry scanned the room looking for a seat. Unfortunately for Draco, the only available seat was the one next to him. As Harry plonked his belongings onto the desk, Draco shifted away, twisting his face in displeasure.

“Neither of us like this, _Mal_ foy. So suck it up,” Harry whispered, ignoring the looks of sympathy his fellow Gryffindors were sending him for being stuck with the vilest of Slytherins in their eyes.

They both remained silent afterwards, taking notes in their respective books. Finally, it was time to brew the potion. Alihotsy Draught, rather simple for his standards, Draco thought. It was ironic since inhaling its fumes induced hysterical laughter and Draco desperately needed a laugh right now. He hadn’t laughed since Voldemort had come back barging into his family’s lives. 

Slughorn approached their desk and immediately began to applaud Potter on his _splendid brewing_. For Merlin’s sake, the brat was just chopping up leaves. _Leaves_. Slughorn didn’t say anything to Draco before walking to observe another desk, lest Draco snapped back at him and caused a scene.

As Draco began to stir his potion, he felt his throat clench up. He could only describe it as the feeling one got when about to cry and unable to speak. He coughed into his silk handkerchief, the itch in his throat too persistent to ignore. He was horrified to see flecks of vermillion dotting the pure white cloth. He began to cough violently, rasps shaking his whole body.

Potter turned to stare at him, shocked and curious, as Draco gripped the table for some support. He raised his hand and managed to croak out a weak question.

“Professor, may I be excused? I don’t feel well.”

Slughorn raised his eyebrow questioningly but waved his hand in dismissal. The moment he did so, Draco sprinted out of the classroom and toward the bathroom, slipping on the smooth marble and bumping into walls in his hurry. No one could see him like this.

Harry was frozen after seeing Draco run out. His thoughts weren’t processing at first, but once he snapped back to reality, he darted after Malfoy, ignoring Slughorn’s exclamation of protests. It didn’t matter, Harry thought, he was Slughorn’s favourite student anyway and will be able to get away with this.

He sprinted towards the nearest bathroom and found Malfoy hunched over the sink, coughing harshly as blood trickled out of his mouth and into the grimy sink.

The once spotless handkerchief was on the floor, soaked in red and Malfoy was gripping the sink so tightly his knuckles were white and his knees were shaking. Malfoy whipped around and rasped out a “Get away from me Potter!” but he was unable to utter out another sentence before collapsing to the ground in another fit of coughs.

Malfoy’s slender pale hands scrabbled at his neck as his grey eyes were flooded with panic and Harry kneeled next to him, holding his head up as blood splattered onto both their uniforms. It reminded him of Sectumsempra, and how Malfoy was on the ground with blood and water surrounding him. A beautifully painful scene.

He held Malfoy’s head up so he wouldn’t choke on his own blood as that would be a truly horrible way to go, collapsing in a dingy Hogwarts bathroom. Merlin forbade he became the male counterpart of Moaning Myrtle. Sworn enemy or not, Harry couldn’t just leave him to die alone in a bathroom.

Malfoy clutched his arm, whimpering as gargled gasps escaped him. The look of helplessness in his eyes was enough to make Harry tear up. After a few more jerky jolts from Malfoy, his body went limp, blood oozing out of his mouth and landing on the ground with a muted pitter-patter. Was he dead? Harry’s eyes widened as he stared at the unmoving body of Malfoy.

“What the fuck Malfoy? You can’t be dead! Get up, you idiot!” 

Malfoy didn’t budge. Harry was stunned, did his archnemesis just _die_? What was he going to do with the body? How was he going to explain this to the professors? Let alone explain it to himself!

He was just above to close Malfoy’s eyelids when a strangled gasp from the lanky boy startled Harry and he jumped back, shoving the boy off of him. Thank Merlin the bastard wasn’t dead.

Malfoy rubbed his neck gingerly, looking at Harry with a piercing glare. His eyes were the perfect shade of winter grey, of cloudy skies and quarry rocks. How had Harry not noticed their allurement before? The blonde boy’s face was coloured rouge and his shirt was untucked and stupidly gorgeous hair all mussed up. It was amazing how reminiscent his hair was of a Veela’s. The almost white strands caught the light, glowing with a tranquil radiance. Harry wouldn’t be surprised if someone told him Malfoy was half Veela, but of course, that wasn’t true. It would at least explain the attraction Harry felt that drew him towards Malfoy. The boy was graced with this unusual beauty. Harry hated to admit it, but even when he was covered in blood, he looked awfully _hot_?

A snarky comment from the boy brought him back to reality and he immediately felt guilty once he heard Malfoy’s accusation.

“It’s your bloody curse that did this, Potter! I almost died because of you! You do have a penchant for trying to murder me in bathrooms, don’t you?”

“I didn’t do all of _this_ to you, Malfoy! How can you be sure that it was my spell? You could have had an allergic reaction to, I don’t know, the alihotsy or something!”

Malfoy narrowed his eyes, “I’ve made the Alihotsy Draught many times before and I. Did. Not. Die.”

“You didn’t die this time either, potions boy. Now shut up and let’s get you to Madam Pomfrey.”

Harry didn’t want Malfoy to suffer any more because of his carelessness. After all, he had more than enough on his conscience after the sacrifices so many had made for him during the War. 

“If you’re taking me to the hospital ward, I do not want anyone to see us on the way. Is that clear?” Malfoy commanded.

“As if I’d want to be seen around with a bloody blonde crumb!” Harry bit back.

Harry let Malfoy lean his weight on him as they trudged along the corridors, resisting his urge of telling Malfoy to shove his mouth up his bottom as the blonde git complained ceaselessly all the way to the infirmary. It was the least Harry could do, seeing as he was most probably the cause of Malfoy’s weak condition. 

Malfoy tried to push him away the entire time, succeeding in doing so once but nearly falling down the staircase. Harry gave him an ‘I told you so’ look and helped him up again, much to Malfoy’s chagrin.

As they traversed the corridors, Harry did their best to make sure no one saw them, but as they were turning the corner, they bumped into a Hufflepuff First Year who held back a small shriek when she saw the blood on Malfoy. 

Unsurprisingly, Malfoy let out a yell as well, thoroughly freaked out by the little girl. Harry put a finger to his lips and whispered, “It’s alright, I’m helping him. Now, run along and don’t tell anyone you saw us, alright?”

She nodded and hurried away, clutching her books to her chest tightly. Harry snorted at Malfoy, “Why’d you have to scream?”

“I don’t know! I got a scare!”

“You’re such a biscuit.”

“A what? Potter, you’re bonkers.”

“Shut up Malfoy.”

“ _Biscuit_.”

“I said shut up!”

When they finally reached the hospital ward, the pair heaved a sigh of relief as they weren’t spotted by anyone. Except for that one First Year. Hopefully, she wouldn’t be too traumatised or worse, tell others what she saw. That would certainly bring up many unwanted questions. 

“Oh dear, what’s the matter with him?” Madam Pomfrey clucked as she helped Harry support Malfoy towards an empty bed upon seeing the two enter the ward. 

Malfoy squawked furiously. “It was Potter! He-” Madam Pomfrey squinted in confusion. She could clearly see Malfoy’s mouth moving rapidly but couldn’t hear a single word. 

“Did he get hit with a muting curse?” She turned to Harry and asked.

Harry stared at Madam Pomfrey dubiously. “What are you talking about? He just told you I was responsible for the curse and the whole coughing out blood thing.” 

“I’m sorry, I must have missed that,” she said politely, indicating that he should tell her again. Her tone, however, implied that she gathered the two must have knocked themselves on the head on the way to the infirmary. 

Malfoy began to speak again, articulating each word carefully and emphasising how everything was Harry’s fault. Harry nodded along with him helplessly, crossing his arms and ready to defend himself. It couldn’t _all_ be his fault, could it?

Madam Pomfrey stared at them incredulously, waving her arms and head to stop him. “I’m sorry boys, I have no clue what you are trying to tell me! Please don’t tell me this is a joke, I have things to do and places to be!”

Harry looked at Malfoy, utterly confused. “Can you not hear him speak?”

“I can, but whenever he starts speaking of whatever you mentioned just now, I can’t hear anything! All I can do for now is give you a Pepper-Up Potion to make you feel better, you’ll need to consult a professor to see if this is a curse of some sort. Until I know your symptoms and their origin, I can’t give you anything in case it harms you.”

Malfoy threw his hands up in frustration and looked at Harry expectantly. “Aren’t you going to help me up, Potter?”

“I’m not your bloody house-elf, you know!”

“That’s too bad, you look just like one!”

“Boys!” Madam Pomfrey interrupted, “Stop fighting! Now, go and seek out a professor and come back when you can tell me what happened.”

“Yes, we’re sorry,” they said in unison.

Malfoy stayed silent on their way to Flitwick’s office - the boy was probably tired from grumbling about Harry nearly killing him for the past hour. They had decided to consult Flitwick as Madam Pomfrey had confirmed that he had no classes to conduct this afternoon. The fact that Flitwick had a vast array of knowledge regarding charms was just a bonus. 

Thankfully, they made it to Flitwick’s office without running into any students. Harry thanked his lucky stars none of his friends had come looking for him only to see his arm around Malfoy, almost dragging him forward with every step. He wasn’t sure how to explain to them that he had not only cursed Draco Malfoy to the point of possibly endangering his life, but also had no idea how to take it back and needed to seek a professor for help. Madam Pomfrey had instructed Harry to escort Malfoy back to the infirmary after meeting Flitwick to rest for the remainder of the school day, so Harry still had to stick around Malfoy for a little bit after Flitwick (hopefully) helps them resolve the curse.

Malfoy hastily pushed himself off Harry’s chest as soon as Flitwick’s door unlocked itself with a click as if sensing the two boys standing outside. “Come in!” Flitwick chimed.

They shuffled into the room awkwardly, avoiding each other like the plague. “So, what’s the matter?” Flitwick asked, glancing at the two boys who were presently shooting glares at each other in an attempt to make the other speak up first and explain the problem. 

“I can’t bloody say it, Potter! Remember what happened with Madam Pomfrey?” Malfoy huffed, leaning on one of the room’s pillars to steady himself. 

Harry sighed, knowing that Malfoy was right. He wasn’t sure how to sugarcoat the events of the day and Malfoy’s symptoms so he told Flitwick what happened exactly how Malfoy would have done it - emphasising how Harry was to blame for everything. 

“There, happy?” Harry looked over to Malfoy who had been nodding along angrily throughout Harry’s explanation of his symptoms. 

Malfoy rolled his eyes in reply and looked over to Flitwick expectantly. The professor looked deep in thought.

“Harry, boy, you said that you were the only one who could hear Mr Malfoy when he spoke about his symptoms?” Flitwick frowned as he summoned a dusty book from one of his shelves. 

“Yes, Professor.” 

To prove the point, Malfoy immediately started spouting his story of headaches and blood in napkins to Flitwick who looked amazed at his inability to hear Malfoy’s words. “Oh, forgive my excitement, boys! It’s just that this may be the first time I’ve encountered anyone under this kind of soul bond.”

“Soulbond?” Harry mused, wondering how the spell he’d found highlighted on a random scroll he picked up could have been this powerful. 

“You hit me with a curse you read off a random scroll? You’ve truly lost your mind!” Malfoy yelled, looking absolutely horrified. Bugger, had Harry said all that out loud?

“It’s alright, as cheesy as it sounds, all you two can do now is work together to solve this problem.”

Both boys gaped at the professor in shock. Flitwick didn’t seem to notice and continued, “Don’t worry about it, Mr Malfoy. Since you know who the caster is, all you have to do is figure out Harry’s intent behind the curse. The curse simply amplifies it and hurts you until whatever Harry wanted is fulfilled. All you need to do now is figure out Harry’s intent and resolve whatever issue laid behind it, and the bond will be broken on its own.”

Malfoy frowned, looking sceptical. “Okay, what if Potter’s intent was to say, murder me?”

“I never wanted you to die, Malfoy! Hell, I’ve never even wished anything painful unto you, all that blood was probably just the spell’s fault.” Harry refuted. 

“Boys, arguing is not going to get you anywhere, and it certainly won’t help you figure out how to break the curse. Now, scurry along, I shall have to inform the heads of your houses so they can accommodate you whatever way they can regarding this unique situation.”

Draco knew a tone of dismissal when he heard one, so he let Potter drag him out of the room and back to the infirmary. 

Potter didn’t say a word through the walk across the school, seemingly deep in thought. He was probably trying to figure out what kind of intent he had behind his curse. Whatever it is, Draco thought, it couldn’t have been anything good. Potter was clearly angry at Draco when he’d performed the curse, and Potter’s made his immense hate of Draco crystal clear many times through the years. Not that Draco cared, of course, whatever Potter felt towards him was the least of his concern right now. Unless it was directly tied to the pain Draco experienced earlier today, which he certainly hoped it didn’t.

Potter didn’t bring up further plans to “work together” with Draco to find out how to break the curse and the bond, clearly not giving a rat’s ass about Draco potentially suffering more from it. Whatever, Draco thought, if Potter didn’t care, then he wouldn’t either. Draco doubted any spell Potter was capable of performing would really bring that much harm to him. After all, this was the most righteous, noble and _pure-hearted_ saviour of the Wizarding World we were talking about.

Besides, staying away from Potter would be good for him. Draco certainly didn’t think their past day spent together was anything close to pleasant, and being seen with the Golden Boy himself would only bring him more attention. It would certainly ruin his plans of staying unnoticed in the background this school year.

*

Draco lay on his back, staring at the ceiling while fiddling with thumbs in annoyance. Goddamn Potter and his stupid spells. He refused to dwell on it any longer, simply hoping the curse would die down on itself soon. Flitwick hadn’t seemed overly concerned just now, so whatever other effects the curse was going to have on him was probably not going to kill him. 

If it did, Draco mused, he could just haunt Potter for the rest of eternity. The stupid, annoying git and his stupidly firm chest deserved that at least. Merlin, had that chest been comfortable… 

Draco quickly shut that window of thought. He was not going to let himself go there right now. 

He was not about to have a restful night. The day’s events had only served to stress him out which would increase the likelihood of a terrifying nightmare. Tonight would be one of the worst.

_He was seated at the dining table at Malfoy Manor. Diversified and delicate foods were splayed out across the table and Draco didn’t know what half of them were. It didn’t matter whether he ate it or not, they were rich. Successful. Poverty would never touch them._

_His father sipped his red wine, holding his mother’s hand as they stared lovingly at each other. They had a complicated relationship, to say the least, but they loved each other and that’s what mattered._

_“Are you enjoying your meal, son?” His father asked._

_“Indeed. Thank you, Father.”_

_“Have you heard? Willy Wiggleson’s clothing store is looking for a model, and I think you’re perfectly suited for it!”_

_His father laughed as his mother looked at him expectantly, hoping his answer would be yes. His father spoke before he could respond to her, a comment that made a small shiver of excitement run down Draco’s back. Merlin, he was so naive._

_“The Dark Lord is back. It is time for him to rise and he is welcome in our home. Draco is to learn his ways and I’d rather not have him gallivanting about with the Wigglesons.”_

_“Father, I think I’d like to have a word with him.”_

_His father scoffed incredulously, “Are you insane? You’re young! You don’t have the ability to do the tasks.”_

_“Lucius! Let’s give him a chance, our son is capable of so much. In fact, the Dark Lord is coming here tomorrow.”_

_Draco grinned to himself. It was time for him to prove his worth._

_*_

_“Mother! Father! The Dark Lord said that I have the duty of killing Dumbledore!”_

_His parents froze. “What?”_

_“Yes, I had to beg for it but look, I have the Dark Mark and I will not let you or him down.”_

_He was so exhilarated that he didn’t notice his parents exchange worried looks._

_His mother hugged him, “I’m proud of you Draco.”_

_Suddenly, her embrace felt like knives digging into his back and she was cold. Too cold. He looked at her and she was nothing but an emaciated corpse. The glamour of Malfoy Manor had melted, leaving him surrounded by the tangled and dense trees of the Forbidden Forest._

_His parents were rotting corpses, glassy white eyes and flesh falling off in chunks. Their clawed skeletal fingers reached out to grab him by the shirt, scratching his face and neck in anger._

_“You let us die!”_

_“As a result of you begging the Dark Lord to kill Dumbledore, we’re dead! You’re not our son. You’re a monster.”_

_“Freak!”_

_“We don’t love you.”_

_“Don’t visit our graves. We don’t want you contaminating it with your filth.”_

_Spiteful insults were thrown at him, his parents nothing but vengeful spirits attacking their only son. If only he knew it was a dream._

_“No, please, no! I didn’t mean to, please, no,”_

_Bony fingers burst out of the ground and grabbed his ankles, dragging him into the damp forest floor as he screamed for mercy. His parents looked down at him, emotionless._

_“No!” He cried out as the ground enveloped him, talons snatching at him from all angles and he screamed and screamed and screamed._

He leapt out of bed, throwing off his blankets and trying to get a sense of where he was. His eyes quickly adjusted to the darkness and he ran his hands along his whole body, sure that he was going to have gashes everywhere. 

He breathed a sigh of relief when he realised he was unharmed. It felt too real to him. Thank Merlin he’d been given a separate room from everyone else in the common room. Slughorn must have done so so suddenly due to Flitwick telling him about the current soul bond situation between him and Potter. Yes, the disadvantage was that he was near to that arse but it was better than humiliating himself in front of all the Slytherins. Hopefully, Potter didn’t hear him from the next room.


	3. The Fall of Draco Malfoy

Harry woke up at the third chime of the twelve o clock bell and jumped out of bed, realising he might be late for the Quidditch match at twelve-thirty. Blast his useless alarm clock! He scrambled to the bathroom to brush his teeth and spray some deodorant on and threw on his Quidditch robes, tripping over his own feet as he rushed out of his room and into a familiar blonde biscuit. 

“Malfoy? What the hell are you doing here?” He screeched, pushing his glasses up and frowning at him. No one was usually lurking in this corridor, especially since he was the only occupant in the hidden dorms. As far as he knew, there were only two rooms and he occupied one of them, meaning Malfoy was either stalking him or stalking him. There was no other option.

“Are you stalking me, you freak?” He demanded, eyebrows creasing in annoyance. It had been three days since they last spoke to each other. It was Saturday now and he was surprised to see that Malfoy hadn’t died yet. 

“No! I’m staying here in the room next to yours, thanks to Slughorn. Fix that rat’s nest on your head that you call hair before you insult me. Did you even comb it today?”

Harry turned beet red and tried to flatten his hair down, realising that it was sticking up in ten different directions. He had completely forgotten about combing his hair in his rush to get ready for practice. Oh, Merlin, he was really going to be late for the match if he continued to argue with Malfoy outside his room.

He ran off without another word, leaving Draco standing confused in the dimly lit corridor. Not that Potter noticed but Draco had actually found his hair rather adorable. It showed him just how chaotic and forgetful Potter could be and he did look far better like this, instead of having his hair plastered to his head like a common Ministry worker. 

“Honky? You may clear my breakfast tray.”

With a ‘pop’, the young house-elf appeared, bowing as he removed the tray. “Master Draco hasn’t eaten much. Master has only eaten a piece of bread, Honky is concerned.”

“I’m not that hungry. Thanks, Honky, I’ll call you if I need anything else.”

The elf nodded, bowing again and Apparated with another pop, leaving Draco feeling a little lonelier than he did before. Don’t, he scolded himself, don’t get too attached to elves, you know what happened to Dobby. Sad memories of his old friend flooded his mind and he waved them away, he needed to focus on today’s match and show everyone he still had skills.

He picked up his broom and headed down to the field, breathing in the warm crisp autumn air. It felt good in his lungs, making him feel just a tad more powerful. He loved autumn because of all the glorious colours but there was a despondency to it. The leaves of the trees were dying, just like he was inside. Draco had never found such solidarity in leaves. “You and me both, buddy,” He said, watching as a single orange leaf fluttered to the ground helplessly and was crunched on by a stampede of students.

Draco had been the Seeker on the Slytherin team since his Second Year, and no one had challenged his position even though he had a black spot on his reputation. He might not have been the best player when he’d joined but by doing the team a favour and replacing their pathetic school brooms, he was helping them improve. They’d thank him one day. It wasn’t his fault that the Gryffindor team had acquired a Harry Potter and became impossible to beat.

He ignored the customary team motivational speech and in turn, they ignored him too. It wasn’t like his duty as a Seeker was that important. They could do without him, everyone knew the Gryffindors were probably going to win anyway. He was about to hop onto his broom when someone grabbed him by the arm.

“Malfoy? You’re playing? Are you insane? Your condition…” Harry said while wiggling his eyebrows. He was obviously referencing the soulbond and his illness but nothing was going to stop him today.

“Fuck off Potter,” He snarled, climbing onto his broom and flying away. 

The game commentator was a Sixth Year Ravenclaw named Arnold Essertg. Draco knew his family relatively well and he was a good kid. When he passed Draco in the hallway, he said hello and even gave him a hug. Shocking but it was gladly appreciated. 

“Hello and welcome to the first Quidditch match of the year! We are eternally grateful to our Professors for letting us have a mini-match before starting their classes. Do note that points will be collected for their respective houses and may the best of the best win! Today we have, Gryffindor versus Slytherin!” 

A roar of applause from the crowds rang through the air and the game began. Merlin, he’d missed the feel of the wind rushing into his face and the hollering of the rowdy crowd. Maybe this time they weren’t screaming his name but it was still an exhilarating feeling. He decided to watch Potter and follow him around, knowing that the Snitch would be easily found if he did that. 

“We’re halfway through the match and it’s neck to neck, both teams are on one hundred points! Who will find the Snitch first? The daring devil Harry Potter or the valiant knight Draco Malfoy?”

The crowd booed when he said Draco’s name and he rolled his eyes, unperturbed by it. He wiped the sweat off his brow, clutching his head when it throbbed. It was getting worse but he wasn’t about to make everyone hate him more by quitting the game. He had to push on.

Suddenly, he saw Potter swerve and speed up and a golden blur made him realise the Snitch was right there. He sped up, dodging the other players until he was right next to Potter, looking at him coldly in the eye.

Luck was on his side and as the pair turned a tight corner, Draco managed to overtake Harry and his nimble fingers reached out to grab the golden globe when a Bludger came out of nowhere. He heard someone scream his name but it was too late. The solid ball slammed into Draco’s temple and another yell came from behind him.

‘Oh, fuck’ was his only thought when his grip on his broom loosened and his head exploded with pain. His vision went dark and he fell unconscious, losing control of his body immediately.

Harry was not pleased when Draco overtook him. He was losing his touch after a year without practice and he just couldn’t let Malfoy beat him. It’d be a shameful thing for both him and the house of Gryffindor. He suddenly heard movement behind him and stopped in his tracks just as a massive Bludger flew by him. It was so close to his face he could feel the brush of wind. He breathed a sigh of relief but panic immediately gripped his heart when he saw it move towards Malfoy.

“Draco!” He screamed, reaching out for his robes to yank him back. It slipped through his fingers and everything seemed to move in slow motion. The ball hit Malfoy’s head knocking him off his broom and when the slender boy fell, he fell like an angel from heaven.

“Fuck! Malfoy!” He yelled again, hoping that the boy would cast a spell to slow his fall or that someone would perform a Cushioning Charm. No one did. He looked up and the Snitch was right in front of him. He could either grab it, win the match and let Malfoy fall to his death or let it go and play saviour again.

“Fuck it,” He said to himself, ditching the Snitch and diving after Malfoy. He was falling so gracefully, an expression of peace on his face and hair flying around gently in the wind. He was getting so close to the ground, Harry wasn’t sure he could save him.

“Oh, Merlin! It looks like Slytherin’s Seeker has been knocked off his broom! Gryffindor Seeker Harry Potter is going after him but will he reach him in time?” Arnold shouted into the microphone, a look of genuine fear on his face. 

“You are not going to die!” Harry roared, grabbing Malfoy just as he was about to hit the ground. The momentum of doing so caused him to roll off his broom and he instinctively held Malfoy closer to him, shielding his face and neck. The coarse sand scraped their skins until they came to a halt in another pit of sand.

The crowd went dead silent and the game stopped, all the players running towards the two boys. Harry sat up, frantically searching for Malfoy’s heartbeat and brushing the bloodstained silver hair out of his eyes. Thank Merlin, he found his pulse. Though it was weak, it was better than nothing. 

Harry then realised he was holding the arm which once had the Dark Mark and he trailed his fingers over the scars and he didn’t realise it, but a meagre tear slid out of his eye and splattered onto the sand. He was panting heavily from the exertion of saving him but now it was time to get him to Madam Pomfrey. He picked Malfoy up bridal-style, draping his limp arms over his shoulders and hurried past the crowd as fast as he could.

“Harry! What did he do to you?”

“Death Eater strikes again!”

“Look at the freak.”

“Harry, are you alright? Did he do something to you?”

Accusations were being flung at Draco and Harry was getting tired of it. Couldn’t they see that he wasn’t hurt and it was Draco who was injured? It was the stupid prejudice getting to their heads. He couldn’t stand it anymore.

“Will all of you shut up! I don’t want to hear anyone speaking of him like this! Fuck off, all of you!” He bellowed, tone venomous and he stormed off, leaving everyone stunned. They weren’t expecting this kind of outburst from him, especially defending an ex-Death Eater! He must have been enchanted, they whispered to one another as they watched him disappear.

As he ran through the hallways of Hogwarts, he heard Hermione’s voice call him from behind. “Harry, what was that back there?”

Hermione followed behind Ron, looking at Harry with a slight frown on her face. They must’ve followed Harry from the Quidditch pitch. 

“Did Malfoy try to attack you or something? I knew the git was up to something today, he probably knew we were going to win,” Ron said, snorting when he saw Draco lying limp in Harry’s arms.

Harry felt something in him snap at Ron’s sudden accusation. Why was everyone assuming Malfoy did something to him? The boy hadn’t done anything but play in his team and get hit by a Bludger. 

“He could’ve died, Ron! Are you going to ignore that fact?” Harry shouted without thinking. He felt rage boil inside him when Ron and Hermione remained completely unsympathetic towards Malfoy’s injury. Instead, he saw confusion bloom on their faces. 

“You defended him back there too, Harry! Are you forgetting that he’s a Death Eater? He almost killed us back in the Room of Requirement last year, for God’s sake!” Hermione yelled, looking bewildered that Harry was still staring at the two of them furiously.

“It’s not like the bastard’s actually dead or anything. Regardless of whatever condition he’s in, he had it coming for whatever he was planning to do to you! You owe him nothing,” Ron added, glancing down at Malfoy with a disgusted expression.

Harry stared at both his friends. He almost saw them in a completely new light, disbelieving of the fact that they had no care at all in the face of someone so obviously injured, and so desperately wanting to have something to blame Malfoy for, even though the boy hadn’t done anything to Harry during the match. 

Without saying another word to the pair, Harry turned and continued to hurry towards the infirmary. Malfoy was in need of treatment immediately, and Harry didn’t have the time to continue listening to whatever bullshit accusations Ron and Hermione were going to make up about Malfoy. He’d deal with them later, he told himself.

Harry barged into the hospital wing, searching miserably for Madam Pomfrey and calling her name before she appeared, clasping her hands in horror.

“Oh, dear! What has happened to Mister Malfoy now?” She cried, helping Harry set the unconscious boy on a clean bed, grabbing potions and cloths. She removed his cloak and boots, magicking his Quidditch robes into a set of simple cotton clothes. She dabbed the blood, sweat, sand and dirt away with a clean cloth, whispering unintelligible charms over him. Harry could feel her healing magic practically emanate from him.

“Hold his hand for me, Mister Potter. I need some of your magic to help heal him and not interfere with the effects of the soulbond.”

When Harry hesitated, she narrowed her eyes and he reluctantly held his hand for the sake of it. Malfoy’s head wound started to close, leaving nothing but a small dark, sulky bruise.

“It’s the best I could do. Like I said before, the magic from the soulbond prevents me from fully healing him. I’ve done my best to heal the head wound, but do you want to hear what other conditions he’s suffering from?”

“Please go on.”

“The magic from the soulbond is ravaging his body, specifically hurting his lungs and heart. He should be avoiding all strenuous activity, I cannot believe you let him go out on the field! I expected better from you, Mister Potter.”

“Sorry,” He muttered, realising that this was kind of his fault. Upon seeing his dejected face, Madam Pomfrey calmed down and healed his scrapes, giving him a warm cup of chamomile and lavender tea to calm his nerves.

“You’re suffering from shock. Here,” She said, wrapping him in a thick blanket. She asked if he was going to stay with Malfoy and he said that he would.

“I’m going to protect you, okay?” He whispered to the sleeping boy.

He watched over him the whole day until the sun began to set. His tea had gone cold and his back was stiff from sitting in the small chair but he could put up with it for a while.

A quiet murmur from the pale boy jolted Harry out of his daze and he turned to face him, watching intently as he blinked slowly.

“Draco, you’re awake,” He said sotto voce, smiling with relief. He suddenly pulled his hand back when he realised he hadn’t let go of it since Madam Pomfrey had asked him to. He tucked it into his pocket before the other boy could notice it. Merlin, that was embarrassing.

“You called me Draco. Right now and back at the pitch,” He murmured, licking his lips to moisten them as he tried to sit up but ended up laying on his back, too tired to move.

“No, I don’t think I did,” Harry lied, alarmed that he had let that slip.

“I think we should start speaking to each other on a first-name basis. We know each other well enough and this rivalry between us is pointless. We need to work through this soulbond together.”

Harry stared at him in surprise, not expecting that from him. He nodded, dumbfounded by Draco’s proposition.

The boy groaned all of a sudden, “Harry, I don’t feel so good.”

He lurched forward, vomiting onto the floor, almost puking on Harry’s shoes but he jumped back at the last moment, pitying the boy as his heaves sounded painful. Tears began to flow freely from his eyes and a bout of coughing took over the puking. Not only was there vomit on the ground but blood as well. Harry decided that he shouldn’t be so unhelpful and rubbed a supporting hand over his back, telling him it would be alright.

Madam Pomfrey’s eyes widened and she magicked away the mess, giving Draco another healing potion to help with the nausea he was experiencing. She helped him sip some water and encouraged Harry to stay with him as much as he could. The closer they were, the less damage the spell would cause to Draco’s body.

A house-elf Apparated into the room, sharing something with Madam Pomfrey and hiding behind her respectfully when she walked back to the boys. She smoothed her apron and looked up at them, “I’m sorry boys, but you’re going to have to leave. I’ve just gotten word from Professor Sprout that multiple students have had a bad reaction to a plant they were working with. I trust that you’ll be able to stay in your dorms and rest over the weekend?”

“Yeah, I’ll take him.”

“Pinky will bring your belongings to your room.”

As the elf disappeared, Harry let Draco sling his arms over his shoulder and put on his shoes, leading him back to their rooms. As he led them up the stairwell, he contemplated taking him into Draco’s own room but in the end, settled on bringing Draco into his larger dorm. It was time for him to get rid of his unnecessary hatred for him and to move on. 

“Wow, that’s a nice room,” Draco marvelled. 

“Isn’t yours like this too?”

Draco shook his head, “Mine doesn’t look as cool as yours.”

“Jealous?” Harry teased.

“Nope. I just need to take a shower. I smell of the hospital wing and funky potions.”

‘I have a bathtub,” Harry said, helping him over to the bathroom. He filled the tub with hot water, pumping some soap into it so it was warm and bubbly. He sat Draco on the edge of the tub and began to undo his shoelaces much to the other boy’s surprise.

“Pott- Harry, what are you doing?”

“I’m going to help you bathe. You’ll probably drown yourself if you’re not careful.” 

“You’re going to bathe me? I’m going to be naked with you,” Draco asked, frowning as he waved his finger over to Harry and himself.

“It’s not a big deal, come on,” Harry said, shrugging off his Quidditch robes and sliding into the tub. He didn’t mind that he was naked, he felt comfortable in his own skin. Draco, on the other hand, was tetchy and tried to cover himself up as much as possible. Harry didn’t mean to look but when he removed Draco’s pants, he couldn’t help but look at his member. He was clean-shaven and well, Harry thought he looked really handsome. 

No, you can’t think of Malfoy like that, he thought to himself. It’s Draco, not Malfoy, another part of his head told him. 

“I must say, we moved from enemies to friends really quickly, didn’t we?”

“It’s time for a fresh start,” Harry confirmed, “Let’s put away our silly feuds.”

“Agreed.”

As Draco leaned on him, his frigid skin meeting Harry’s warm one, he breathed a small sigh of content, closing his eyes and allowing himself to relax. Harry then realised that long scars ran up and down Draco’s back. They looked like they were whip marks. Most of them had faded away but a few were rather prominent and visible. Harry supposed Draco could feel his eyes on his back because he answered Harry’s unasked question.

“Voldemort. It was a punishment.”

His voice was quiet, not much louder than a whisper and Harry held him closer, running his hand up and down his arm, pouring water over him.

“He’s gone now, don’t be afraid.”

They went silent afterwards, just enjoying the other’s company and trying to forget the horrors of the war.

Harry pumped a few handfuls of his spiced cinnamon shampoo and began to lather it over Draco’s locks, ensuring that none of it got into his steadfast and penetrating eyes. He massaged his fingertips along his scalp and temples, working his roots and then rinsing it off with cool water. A pump of vanilla-scented conditioner and he made sure to really work his way through Draco’s hair, knowing that he was extremely particular about it.

“Hey, Harry?”

“Hm?”

“Thanks.”

“Anytime.”

They were silent once again, the only sounds in the room were muted scrubbing and an occasional splash of water. He let Draco rest his head on the crook of his shoulder and he washed with one hand, the other hand wrapped around the boy’s thin waist.

Draco turned around to face Harry and his lips parted slowly. They made eye contact and Harry tentatively placed his one hand on Draco’s cheek and the other on the nape of his neck. They leaned closer to one another, tilting their heads slightly and Draco’s soft and flirtatious lips were centimetres away from Harry’s sweetly curved ones. Was this really about to happen? Harry thought. Was he about to kiss the person he thought he hated the most? They could feel each other’s breath on their faces, lips so near the others and just as they were about to kiss…

A loud ‘crack’ rattled both of them as Honkey Apparated into the room with two lavish dinner trays of steaming beef and other sumptuous delights. The two boys quickly moved apart, splashing water everywhere as the house-elf squeaked an apology.

“I did not know Master Harry and Master Draco were together. Honky was given instructions to bring food to Master Potter and then to Master Draco, forgive Honky’s intrusion!”

“No worries, Honky. Just leave the food on my table, yeah?”

The house-elf nodded, bowing and apologising profusely as he exited. Draco was blushing and had started to rinse himself off at that point, climbing out of the tub and wrapping himself with a towel.

“You can wear my shirt,” Harry offered, “They’re far more comfortable than your fancy clothing.”

Draco smiled, “No thanks. I’ll take my food to my room now. Thanks for the help.”

He left the bathroom, leaving Harry missing his touch. Was he actually attracted to Draco? No, he couldn’t be. This was just the result of curiosity and it meant nothing. Draco and he were friends now, nothing more than that. He continued to relax in the tub, closing his eyes and taking a moment to breathe after the hectic day. He stayed there until his food got cold, but it was alright. He just needed some time to think.

*

As Draco walked back into his room, hair soaking wet and smelling exactly like Harry, Onyx greeted him with a loud meow, brushing himself against his leg.

“Hello, did you miss me?”

A purr was his response and he picked up the kitten, placing him on the bed before dressing himself. Did Harry really offer Draco his clothes? It could have been done out of pity. And did they really almost kiss? That was insane. He wasn’t sure how to feel about that. He sat on the edge of his bed, stroking his cat’s head.

The cat sneezed in response, sniffing him and giving him what appeared to be a frown. Well, if cats could frown.

“I know, it’s not my soap. The man who lives next to us lent me his soap. What do you think of him?”

The cat massaged the mattress, curling up into a pile of fur. Draco laughed, laying on his back and staring at the ceiling. Being touched affectionately was a nice feeling, he’d like that to happen more often.

He grabbed a dinner roll, biting into the soft bread and chewing it slowly. He looked forward to seeing Harry tomorrow, luckily they had Potions class together.

He closed his eyes, resting peacefully as he breathed in Harry’s scent, a comforting aroma which helped him sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Kudos and comments are greatly appreciated!


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